Apollo
by Gryffindorscholar
Summary: Grand plots, bedtime stories, and adventures in the dark. ER slash.
1. Prologue

_Now_

Raoul enters the room with a stagger, gripping the door handle to keep himself upright. He is very tired, worn nearly to a wraith, and his entire demeanor shows that. A thick, red line surrounds his throat, looking almost like a cravat in the light of the doorway. He is sopping wet, water dripping onto the lush carpeting. He waits a moment, regains his balance, and then hobbles into the dark room, closing the door behind him and cutting off all of the light. It doesn't occur to himto see ifthere are lamps available in the room, even though its previous owner abandoned it barely a day ago. Raoul stumbles over to a chair, pulling his coat around him, and sits down heavily, almost as though he was collapsing. A minute goes bye, then two, and he simply stares into the darkness, occasionally coughing, gathering his thoughts.

It has been over a year since the fire, three months since he learned of Christine's indiscretions, and a very long time since the story began. As Papa Daae had always told him, you must begin at the beginning, and it takes him a few moments to find the beginning of his story. He does not know if he has an audience, and does not really care. This story is for him, and perhaps another, if he is listening. He fingers the bruise on this throat, then winces. It is still new enough to hurt badly. Finally, ignoring the pain speaking brings him, he begins to speak.

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Raoul. Raoul was brought up to be a Christian, so every night he got down on his knees by his bed and prayed to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit to protect him and his family from evil. But Raoul did not really believe in the Holy Trinity his parents told him about. Why pray to some idea you can never see, thought little Raoul, when there is something you can see that leads you through the day? Raoul worshipped the sun. The sun was beautiful and bright, and it warmed him up all the way through, but it was all alone up in the sky. Raoul thought that the sun looked lonely, just like he felt. Obviously, the sun needed a friend, and Raoul knew that the friend would be him. After all, Raoul needed a friend too. Someday, Raoul would find somebody on earth who was really the sun, and they would be best friends and never go away from each other. Raoul looked for that person every day, and he spent as much time in the sun as he could, keeping it company.

"Then, one day, Raoul was at the beach, where many sun worshippers loved to spend time, and he saw a bright red flying thing being chased by another bright thing. Perhaps, Raoul thought, that is the sun, and it has lost the bright red flying thing. If I catch it, and bring it back, the sun will be my friend! So Raoul ran out into the sea and rescued the bright red thing from the cold and dark water which went on forever. Raoul got cold and wet too, but he brought the red thing back to the bright thing that had been chasing it, which turned out to be a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl. 'Are you the sun?' Raoul asked. (Raoul was only a little boy himself, and not always a smart one, you see.) 'No," said the little girl, 'I am Christine.' Well, thought Raoul, perhaps she is not the sun, but she can be my friend anyway. And she was. Raoul learned many things of great use from her and her father, like how to tell a story, but Raoul never really believed that the bright little girl wasn't the sun.

"Then the little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl went away, and Raoul's family decided that it was time for him to grow up. Raoul learned to hunt, and fight, and sport, and he almost forgot about his sun-friend, who he may not have even found. Raoul grew into a man.

"When Raoul was all grown, he went to a big building with music in it, and there he found the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl again, but she was not a little girl any more, and Raoul was not a little boy. (Though some would say that he was still not very smart.) 'Do you remember me?' Raoul asked. 'Yes, you are Raoul,' said the girl. 'Do you remember me?' 'Yes,' said Raoul, 'You are the sun. Come and be my friend. I will give you many bright things to keep you company. I will give you anything you wish.' But the sun looked away, and Raoul was scared. Raoul had never been sure what the sun looked at when it looked away, but he knew it was deep in the darkness and that the sun followed it at night. He was afraid that if the sun followed it away into the darkness, he would be left all alone again.

"So Raoul went to the men who guarded the sun and gave them many bright, shining things that looked like the sun, and some men worshipped like the sun, and he told the men to guard the sun even more. Then he went out and brought the sun a small round thing that reflected the color of her hair, and had a bright stone that shone like the sun in the sky. He thought that such things would keep her with him. But one night the sun followed the thing she saw into the darkness, and Raoul followed her. He went deep down into the darkness, and he found her. He could not really see the thing she had seen, but he knew that she loved it more than him, and he was afraid she would leave him alone. So, after a great fight and many adventures in the dark, Raoul took the sun's hand and pulled her back the way they had come. They traveled for what seemed like a very long time, and Raoul became very tired. He turned back to look at the sun and speak to her, but what was this? The sun was not the sun, but only a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, who was still looking back at the thing in the darkness. Realizing that he had been very much mistaken, Raoul dropped her hand and went on towards the light alone.

"He got lost and had many more adventures in the dark. He could not see anything. Then he heard a sound like the stars singing, (for what are the stars but many tiny suns?) and he saw, in the dark, two small, bright, shining, golden suns, who had been lost in the darkness for much longer than he had. Raoul smiled at them and asked them their name. The two suns widened, narrowed, then returned to their own size and said that their name was Erik. And Raoul knew that he had found his special sun-friend, and he was happy."

Raoul pauses, closes his eyes and clears his throat.

"That's not the end. There isn't an end yet. But it's a good place to stop."

Raoul opens his eyes again and looks around the dark room. He can see very little but the crack of light beneath the door, but he tries anyway. He strains his ears for any sound of his audience, but again finds none. He stands tiredly and makes his way to the door, squinting as the light floods into the room and turning to survey the room once more before he closes the door behind him.

Behind the mirror, Erik sits very quietly, not knowing exactly what to do.

* * *

Five reviews for an update.

Yes, this will get more slashy as we go along (if we go along) and yes, this is a mixture of many things. I've taken elements from the movie, the musical, the book, the other book- Phantom by Susan Kay, and a couple of other places. I own nothing. This whole thing is inspired by Sanely Challenged, who now goes by the name Kytten, and to whom I owe my love of Raoul/Erik slash. Read her stuff!


	2. To Win Her

_Now  
_The door to Christine's old dressing room swings shut, and Raoul looks at it for a moment before staggering on down the hall. He is in no condition to make the trip home tonight, and he knows it. He will have to call upon Madame Giry's assistance again, and that rankles a bit, though he knows the woman has done nothing she did not think in all of their best interests. He travels down one hall, then another, as familiar with the twisting and turning as he is within his own house. But Madame Giry's apartments are on the other side of the building, a long walk no matter how many shortcuts you know, and soon he is lost in thought, remembering

_Then: Three months ago  
_"Oh, no, we really should not, Phillippe, what if someone should hear?"

"Hush, Christine, hush. No one would dare interfere. I am a much more powerful man than my brother, you know. Hush."

I'm not hearing this. Raoul thought. Christine would never betray me.

No, said the small voice in the back of his head, and she has never betrayed anyone else, has she?

"Monsieur, oh, Phillippe, oh my!" She was speaking very loudly, the sound of her voice coming right through the door to her dressing room. Raoul stood very quietly in the hall, listening and thinking, one hand searching out his sword.

"Christine, oh Christine, my angel. My brother could never teach you what I can."

Raoul drew his sword and gave the door a swift kick, knocking the lock out of its place, smashing the door against the wall. He saw only images, the gold of Christine's hair, the surprise in Phillippe's eyes, the disarray of their clothes and the scatter of flowers and candies across the floor. He brought his sword to his brother's throat, unable to speak.

"Raoul! Raoul, darling, he said that if... He's agreed to approve of our mairrage, darling. You won't have to put aside your title, love. Don't hurt him! He didn't do anything to me, Raoul, don't hurt him!"

"Raoul, put away your sword. How would it look, the vicomte killing his older brother over a chorus girl? Take a deep breath, and put away the sword."

"You called her angel."

"What?"

"You called her angel! Why?"

"She told me to. Why? Does it signify?"

Raoul stared at him, then turned his gaze to Christine. "I would have died for you. Do you know that? If you had chosen, I would have died, and happily, knowing I had won your freedom. If I had known that you didn't want to be free, that you'd rather stay with him... I can't be him, Christine! Neither can my brother! No one can!"

"Raoul, I didn't want him! I chose you! This, this is just, I'm trying to take care of us!"

"Stop lying to me, Christine! Stop lying to yourself! You chose him! You love him! I'm just easier to live with!"

"No, Raoul. No."

"What's going on?" asked Phillippe. "Who did she chose? What are you two talking about?"

Raoul stepped away from his brother, almost forgetting that Phillippe was there. Two steps took him to Christine, and he took her hand, hard, and pulled the new ring from her finger. "I will not live with this, Christine. I am only glad that I realised what you were before I married you. You are free to do whatever you like with my brother. We are no longer engaged."

"Oh, now, come little brother, don't do anything rash. After all, it was just a bit of fun."

Raoul swerved, bringing his sword back up to his brother's face. "As for you, you can take your title and defecate on it. I'm through with you, I'm through with the de Changy line! Stay away from me!"

"Oh, Raoul, you always were rash. Will you truly throw your entire fortune away because you feel betrayed? After all, what are brothers for if they can not share?"

Raoul stared up at his older brother, shocked, then disgusted, and finally almost amused. "Indeed, what are brothers for?" he asked, taking his sword down. Phillippe smiled, relieved, and Raoul smiled back, keeping his smile as his left hand fisted, came up, and smashed into the bridge of Phillippe's nose. The taller man crumpled, unconcious, blood spraying from his face. Christine shrieked wordlessly, sounding just like all of the other mindless chorus girls. Raoul winced, feeling the pain spread up his arm, sheathed his sword, and walked out of the door without another word.

The hallways all seemed to be the same after a while. Up a staircase, down a staircase, and for goodness sake, avoid the people walking by! Raoul was quite lost within a matter of moments, in the maze of construction sites and stairwells, and he didn't really care. Where was he to go, even if he did know where he was? There wasn't anything for him to do, no one to go to. Andre and Firmin would undoubtably be concerned, but they were not exactly the type of people to turn to for help. The most they could do would be fire Christine, and while he didn't really care for her at the moment, he didn't want to turn her out into the street. She was an old friend, no matter what else she became.

A stairway, leading up for a very long time, then a doorway. This was familiar. He opened the door, then braced himself against the cold wind that swept across the roof. It was fitting that he ended up here, where he had pledged to love her in the first place. He stepped out into the wind, looking up at the sky, glancing at the statue of Apollo that guarded the opera house. Winged Phoebus Apollo. He laughed bitterly, then spat out, "Angel of Music, you decieved me! You had her heart always!" He walked to the edge of the rooftop, staring down at the streets below, the cabs and people walking by in the dusky light. It was going to rain soon, he could smell it. He clenched his hand around the ring, feeling the diamond biting into his palm, and took another step forward.

"Suicide, Monsieur? That hardly seems like you."

Raoul jumped, staring about him, and almost lost his balance. He flailed a bit, arms pinwheeling, then finally caught his balance and stumbled away from the rooftop. He fell to his hands and knees, the ring rolling away from him, and glared up at the statue. A figure stood before it, clad in dark evening clothes with a white mask covering half of its face.

"You're dead!"

"Am I? How odd, one would think I would remember something as momentus as that. Perhaps I only appeared to be dead. Or perhaps I have finally become a phantom. As you were just about to."

"I wasn't going to jump."

"No? It appeared otherwise, vicomte."

"I was just..." Raoul blinked, rising to his feet and dusting his pantlegs off, "I intended to throw the ring off."

"Your engagement ring?"

"Yes. I'm sure you know that I've called off my engagement. You've always known everything that occurs here." Raoul bent and picked up the ring, looking at it rather than at the figure in the shadows.

"Of course I know, Monsieur. I am less clear as to why. You knew she did not have a loyal bone in her body when you proposed. Is it only when she proved that she could be just as disloyal to a rich, handsome, man, such as yourself, that you decided she was not worthy of the de Changy title?"

"No, Monsieur!" He looked up at the Phantom. "She never loved me. As much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, there was only ever one man who held her heart. That was you. Her rendevouz with my brother only proves that. I can not marry someone who does not love me."

"Don't be absurd, Monsieur. She betrayed me."

"She will never let herself be with you. That does not mean she doesn't love you. You do not fit into her idea of life, that is all." Raoul lost all sense of who he was speaking to, forgitting to show respect or contempt for the other man. He began to pace, punctuating his words by gesturing angrily with his hands. "She wants children, and an estate, and long days at the beach. She's trying to convince herself that she can be happy with someone else, someone who can give her that. She's wrong. I will not stand by as she is devoured by her misery!" He glared at the ring for a few more moments, then reeled around and threw it as hard as he could, watching it arch out over the street, finally dropping out of sight. "I will not watch her wither trying to find you," he muttered, staring out at the spot the golden thing had disappeared.

There was a long silence, and Raoul thought that the Phantom had left. He turned, and there was the Opera Ghost, looking at him. "What?" Raoul barked. "We have nothing more to quarrel over. We have both lost, simply because the woman we were fighting over did not want either of us, but elements of both. It is over. Let me by." He stormed off, passing the figure to reach the door to the inside.

"Wait." The Phantom reached out, grabbing Raoul's arm.

"Monsieur, let me go."

"No, vicomte, not until you've heard me out. You say that Christine loved elements of both of us."

"Yes. Your genius, wit, ability. My, may I be blunt Monsieur? My looks and position."

"So, why not give her a man who has all of that?"

Raoul stared at the masked man, searching for some emotion in his face, and finding none. "To what purpose, Monsieur?"

"I don't know. To make her happy? To punish her for hurting us? To win? We can determine what to do with her once we have captured her, but capture her we can!"

Raoul shook his head. "I don't believe I understand your proposal."

"You have a good voice. With training it could be made better, not on a par with Christine's or my own, but good. I could give you things to say, to win her again. She wants your stability, and would forgive your outburst if you asked her. Then, to make her love you!"

"Monsieur, I believe you have me confused with someone else. My name is de Changy, not de Bergerac."

"No, in this situation I would be de Bergerac, but that's beside the point. The point is that we could win her!"

"We would have to work together. I don't know that either of us would be able to do that."

"Do you love Christine?"

Raoul was silent for a moment, then tried to wrench his arm away from the other man. The Phantom merely increased his grip, bearing down on a nerve in the vicomte's elbow. Raoul gasped, knees buckling, and the Phantom kneeled beside him, hissing in his ear.

"That was very stupid Monsieur. Now, answer me. Do you love Christine?"

"Yes," gasped Raoul, "yes, I love her."

"Then you'll do whatever it takes to win her. Won't you? Or would you rather your older brother fumble at her dress between acts, ineptly taking the place that we should fill?"

Raoul grimaced, closed his eyes, then looked up at the older man. "When do we start?"

* * *

Gasp! I got reviews! Now to answer them. (Five more for the next update. Heh heh.) 

Kytten: No problem. Thanks. Raoul's story was supposed to sound childish, for reasons that will be made clear later.

Lil-Hikki: Okay!

theinfamousredflag: -grins at the awed staringness- It will be continued, don't worry. I don't want people to be sad. Although being hunted down would be interesting.:)

lonz: I like this pairing too. Continue I shall!

denna5: Thanks. Yeah, as I said, the extremely stylised story was for a reason. Sorry about the typos. I'll keep writing if you keep reviewing!


	3. Fever Dreams

_Now  
_Raoul barely makes it to Madame Giry's apartment. He slumps against the door frame, banging on the door with his entire fist and nearly falls through when little Meg opens it. "Monsieur de Changy! Mama! It's Monsieur de Changy!"

"What's this? Mon dieu, Monsieur! What has happened to you? The entire opera has been searching for you!"

Raoul manages a weak smile. "Madame, you'll forgive me if I don't tell you everything now," he croaks, his voice almost gone. Erik will kill me for that he thinks, amused. "I need a place to sleep, and perhaps a warm fire. I don't think I can travel home tonight, so if you would be so kind as to help me again?" He stumbles and then falls to the floor.

"Mama! What is wrong with him?"

Madame Giry bends over the vicomte, putting a hand to his forehead. "He has a fever, Meg. We must get him out of these wet clothes. Come, help me get him inside."

"Madame, if I might?" A white-gloved hand comes down and cups the vicomte's head. In a moment, the Phantom has Raoul cradled in his arms, and is moving away from the apartment.

"Monsieur! Bring that boy back here!"

"Madame, I assure you that..."

"None the less, Monsieur, the boy left himself in my care, not yours. I do not know what has been going on between the two of you of late, Erik, but I will not let you take him anywhere!"

"Do you mean to stop me?"

"God's sake, Erik, let her have her way." Raoul's voice cracks. "I j-just need to get warm." He starts to shake now, almost uncontrollably.

Erik looks down at Raoul, and whispers, "Shush. Your voice has been through enough."

Raoul begins to laugh, and it turns into a huge hacking cough.. Erik simply moves past the Girys and into the room, finding the couch closest to the fire and setting down the boy, beginning to pull his wet jacket off his quivering frame.

"No, Monsieur. That will be quite enough from you until he is quite warm and dry."

"Madame, you overstep your bounds!"

"Erik, he came to me! That is all I need to know just now. I will not let you treat him until I have heard the story from his lips. And, Monsieur, if you have nothing but his best interests at heart, what is that mark around his throat?"

Erik looks down at the lasso mark, closes his eyes, then stands and moves away. "Very well, Madame. Tell me when I may be of assistance." He walks into the next room.

"Meg, come and help me. He's soaked to the bone."

_Then  
_"I am sorry, Christine. I lost my head. Of course our engagement is not off."

"Oh, Raoul, you said such hateful things."

"I am so sorry Christine. I love you. I know you did only what you thought was best for us. Still, next time I will take care of anything like that, alright?"

"Alright Raoul."

_Now  
_"What's he saying, Maman?"

"Something about Christine. I don't know Meg. Help me with this shoe."

_Then  
_"You really should not be so rash, Raoul, but the fault is mine. I was very drunk, little brother, or I would not do anything of that kind. You know that. My Sorelli is quite enough for me, thank you."

"It's all right, Phillippe. I know you wouldn't betray me."

"Of course not little brother. I have spoiled you far too much for that. Continue with the Daae girl, if you wish. You could do far worse for a wife."

_Now  
_"Indeed, brother. Not every wife would let you buy her chocolates and flowers."

"Maman? What?"

"He's hallucinating, Meg. It's nothing."

"Here, give him this." Erik's voice. Raoul turns his head towards it. "It will help him sleep."

Raoul feels a small prick in his arm, then all is silence.

* * *

As for reviews, well, I'm glad you are all enjoying it. If you don't understand Erik's idea, I can only hope that the story itself will clear that up for you as it progresses. Since I've taken so long to update, I'm not putting a requirement on my reviews for next chapter. It will be posted when it is done, which should be quite soon. It's quite a bit longer than this one (yay!). 


	4. Ring and Song

Raoul was eating his lunch, enjoying the quiet of his own house after speaking with his brother and renewed fiancée, when the Phantom's letter arrived. He stared at it for a few minutes as he finished his coffee, and then picked it up, breaking the distinctive seal and pulling out the letter.

_Dear Vicomte:_

_Please find enclosed one piece of lost jewelry. Your first lesson will be held today in the main set storage area. I shall expect you no later than one o'clock in the afternoon. O.G._

Unsure of what he would find, Raoul tipped the envelope, spilling the contents onto the table. A ring tumbled onto the tablecloth. Raoul picked it up, examining it carefully. After the night of Don Juan, he had bought Christine a new ring, very similar to the one she had lost. That had been the ring he had thrown off the roof last night. This was not that ring. This was the Swarovski ring the Red Death had pulled from around Christine's neck. This was the one she had been wearing when he found her beneath the opera house, and had not been wearing when he helped her into the boat.

"How am I going to give her this?" he muttered. "How can I possibly _explain _this?" He turned the ring to reflect the light, the sun streaming in the windows making each of the diamonds sparkle madly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Christine did not love him. She would never love him, not without the help the Phantom offered. Was that help what he wanted? Would it be worth it, to become more like the man he had hated, even if it was only on the surface? He didn't know. All he knew was that he loved her. He pocketed the ring, a look of determination flashing across his face. He loved her, and to have her love him would be worth anything, no matter the reason. He could not just give her up to his brother.

_Now  
_"Foolish. I'm so foolish. Such a child."

There's a cool hand against his forehead, strong and calming. It strokes his hair, trying to give comfort. "Hush Raoul. It's a dream."

"Couldn't see. Couldn't leave well enough alone. So much smarter to have gone away. Never agreed to any of this." He opens his eyes, glares accusingly at the face before him. "What were you thinking? How could winning her have helped? Both of us, neither of us, it's just the same. Miserable."

He is lifted up, and something warm and sweet is poured down his throat. It hurts to swallow. He chokes, and a much more recent memory rope and water and cold tries to force its way up into his thoughts. His head turns almost involuntarily and he grabs hold of Erik's arm. "No!"

"You need to drink this, Raoul."

"No! It burns."

"Now you are being childish. Drink."

Raoul glares at Erik, but does as he is told. He lays back afterwards, the taste still sticky in his mouth, and stares absentmindedly into his friend's face.

"That is quite disconcerting, vicomte."

"Why? I love you."

Erik looks away. "You need to sleep."

"I'll just dream about you. About the past. I'd rather be here."

"Being here does not help with your fever. You need rest, and you must stop talking! I'll gag you if I must."

"No you won't. Madame Giry would throw you out." He can feel himself fading away. Drugged. "Sing to me, then. I like it when you sing."

Erik's song follows him into his dream.

_Then  
_"You're late."

"I had to get directions from a door opener. Why are we here?

"I am here to teach you. You are here to learn."

"I meant here." He gestured expressively. "In the set room."

"Because it is not often visited and because it provides a magnificent place to hide things." The Phantom stepped behind a garden scene and remerged with a small wheeled piano. "I've often thought of hiding a body here to be discovered, but the opportunity has never presented itself."

"Monsieur, if you thought to bring me down here and threaten me!" Raoul's hand went to his sword.

"Quiet down, little fool! The last thing we need is a chorus girl hearing us and telling tales of the vicomte who talks to ghosts. For the last time, I do not mean to harm you." He stared at the younger man for a moment. "Forgive me if my statement scared you."

"You do not frighten me, sir."

"Of course not. Now, to begin." He sat down behind the piano, rifling through a folder of sheet music Raoul had not noticed a moment ago.

"But why not at your house? After all, it's not as if I don't know how to get there, and no one would hear us."

"I value my privacy. Of course, we will not be able to have our lessons here for very long, but I much prefer a changing classroom to having you in my home again. Now if you would." He handed Raoul a piece. "We'll see how far we have to go." He started to play.

"Wait."

"What is it now? Did you or did you not come here to be taught, monsieur?"

"Yes, I came here to be taught. But... I can't just call you Monsieur. Not if we are to be working together. You have a distinct advantage over me, sir. You know my name."

"Ah, but you have such a wide variety of names to choose from. Monster, Animal, Creature, I believe those are some of your old favorites, are they not? What of simply Phantom, or Opera Ghost?"

"It would not be gentlemanly to call you such."

"No, but it would be honest."

Raoul shook his head at that, knowing he could not argue. The Phantom was more of a monster than anything else. Two men were dead to show that. This was a business deal, and he would do far better to think of it as such. He looked down at the music in his hands.

"I can't read this."

"You can't read Italian? Your education has been neglected."

"I can read Italian. I can't read music. Not anymore."

"The patron of the Opera Populaire can not read music. How fitting. You could at one time?"

"A little. Papa Daae taught me the violin, and a little about music. Then, after my parents died, Philippe didn't think noblemen should play music. He just liked to listen."

"I don't have time to teach you to read music."

"Then I'll just learn to sing. I'm not training to be a professional."

The Phantom looked at him for a long moment, and Raoul began to wonder if that face was capable of registering anything but disgust. "To begin without the theory... Very well. As you say, you will never be a professional. Repeat after me." He began to sing.

It was only a few scales, and Raoul repeated them perfectly. Then came others, until they had found the limits of Raoul's range, which was considerably smaller than Erik's. Then Erik began to sing, really sing, and Raoul had to concentrate fiercely on remembering the tune, and not just enjoying the music. Whatever might be said of the man, the voice was divine. He realized, rather suddenly, that the music had stopped, and learned that the face could indeed register something other than disgust. That expression was pure amusement.

"Do you wish me to repeat myself?"

"No," Raoul shook himself, returning to reality. "No, I've got it."

"Then sing it, vicomte."

"As you will, phantom."

* * *

Any excuses I could make about this post taking so long would be just that- excuses. I'll save us all a bit of wasted time by not trying to make any. Now, to answer some important questions:

The format of the story, showing both ends and not the middle, isn't meant to be cruel. Things will explain themselves in time, I promise.

The world Iwork in is one of my own. It owes quite a bit toWebber, butKay and Leroux may show up from time to time.

Other than that, thank you all for your comments. It is really amazing to know that people will be less happy if you don't keep writing. Your input means a lot.


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